


Garde Rapprochée

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Awkward Flirting, Drag Queens, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Anonymous asked : "I am interested in you but you are surrounded by hyper protective and slightly scary Drag Queens with very high heels" As sterek please!





	Garde Rapprochée

As hard as he may try, and he doesn’t even try that hard to begin with, Derek cannot look away from  _ him _ .

The young man got his attention the moment he entered the club. 

Derek certainly didn’t come to Jungle to flirt or find a date, or nothing of the romantic variety really, but it’s not that often that he finds someone who pushes so many of his buttons at once.

Truth be told, Mister Tall and Lean over there matches every wet dream Derek ever had about men.

He sips on his drink, eyes once again darting to Tall and Lean unconsciously..

The man is laughing energetically, head thrown back in a move that reveals the long expanse of his neck, all that pale skin and tendons exposed to Derek’s eyes and--

“Easy on the glass, big guy.”

Derek tears his eyes away from the delicious sight to glare at bartender. “Beg your pardon?”

The  [ bartender  ](https://static1.squarespace.com/static/57b8aecdebbd1a60cf752156/57bcc0b03e00bea28d56cfc9/57ca5f9a5a655bc74d609d43/1472880621915/) smirks at him. “Lose the grip on the glass, baby, and go get him.”

Derek relaxes, and he did have a deadly grip on the poor glass of  [ Planteur ](http://www.1001cocktails.com/images/planteur-antillais-1152.jpg) , before shrugging. “Have you missed his bodyguards?”

The bartender laughs and replaces his almost empty glass with a new cocktail. “Ah, that’s our Stiles.”

“Your what?”

“Stiles. That’s his name.”

“Stiles …” Derek repeats, swivelling in his seat to look at him again.

Stiles has his head bowed now, a flush to his cheeks and neck, and the group of Drag Queens around him are standing closer to him, whispering in his ear in turns.

_ Lucky bitches. _

“He’s our little mascot,” Bartender continues, shaking cocktails like there is no tomorrow. “Ever since he turned eighteen and tried to slither in, all wide eyes and plump lips--” Derek can’t exactly deny it, “the girls have taken a special interest in his well being.”

“Which explains the guard.”

“Bullseye.”

Derek sips more of his cocktail and sighs in his glass. 

“Oh, your poor brooding baby, what’s weighing on your little heart like that?”

“Nothing.”

“You prefer to brood on your own?”

“...yes.”

“Than going over there and ask him out and get to eat each other’s face and other body parts?”

Derek raises one eyebrow. “Not a very likely outcome.”

“Oh?” The Bartender leans over the bar, fingers crossed under her chin. “And what is the most probable outcome, hm?”

“Me going over there, me making a fool of myself, me getting kicked in the nuts with those very high heels, me not being able to brood anymore, …”

“That’s a lot of me talk, my fledgling emo.”

“Excuse me for being concerned about what happened to me if those Queens decide to have my head!”

“Scared of the Queens?”

Derek nearly jumps off the stool in his surprise, as the question didn’t come from the Bartender, who is grinning from ear to ear, but from his right.

Where Stiles is standing, Drag Queens guard-less.

“A-a healthy dose of fear, yes,” Derek manages to stammer. “Born from respect.”

“And experience?”

“I do have a older sister who likes wearing heels.”

“Ah.”

“And why are you afraid the Queens might attack you?”

Derek takes a deep breath. “Because I was apparently admiring you from afar.”

“Like a loser,” Bartender adds generously.

“I think you’re being overdramatic, Shirley,” Stiles tuts as he hops on the stool next to Derek.

Their knees bump and Derek’s heart hiccups.

“After all, I don’t think Mr. Dark and Handsome here could be a loser.”

_ Handsome? _

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bambi,” Bartender--Shirley--retorts. “The more gorgeous they get, the dorkier they hide.”

“Which makes me?”

“The most gorgeous of them all, darlin’.”

Stiles laughs again as a blush colors his cheeks and neck.

Derek wants to follow that coloring with his tongue.

“So you were ogling me from the bar?” Stiles says as Shirley gives him a drink.

“So you think I’m handsome?” Derek replies with a smile.

Now that he got over the close proximity and the embarrassment, he can put himself back on track. Now, Derek can flirt back.

Well, he can try, and that’s something.

“Well, it’s not a matter of thinking it as much as it is a simple observation, since I have eyes and I get to use them,” Stiles says with a smirk. “While the reason behind you ogling me is confusing at best.”

Derek frowns, and somewhere down the bar, Shirley coos at them. “I don’t appreciate you talking down the man I admire from afar.”

Stiles’ blush intensifies. “Well, whatcha gonna do about it?”

Derek stands, bracketing Stiles against the bar. “Ask you on a date and make sure your confusion is gone by the end of it?” he proposes, before his earlier nerves make a comeback. “That is,” he says, taking a step back, “if you agree to go on said date.”

“Hm, gee, I don’t know,” Stiles says, his long fingers tapping his chin in contemplation, “what do you think, ladies?”

Derek snaps his head to look around them, and surely enough, the guard of Drag Queens surrounds him.

“That hunkbunny wants to take you out, Bambi?”

“Hunkbunny?”

“Hubba hubba, I say.”

“And if he doesn’t treat you right--”

“--you know who you gonna call.”

“Ballsbuster!”

Stiles waves them away, his hand landing coincidentally on Derek’s forearm. “Alright, alright, I think you’ve successfully whipped him into behaving like a gentleman. Now go before he runs for the hills.”

Derek swallows down his nerves and takes Stiles’ hand in his to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Not without you.”

All the Drag Queens coo and wolfwhistle at them, but Derek keeps his eyes on Stiles. 

The flush has taken a turn for the burgundy, but Derek doesn’t think it lowers Stiles’ level of attraction.

Quite the opposite actually.

“You’re serious,” Stiles says softly.

“Always.”

“No, I mean, you’re serious. About wanting me. Wanting to date me. Whichever suits you, really, ‘cause I’m not going to be picky here, if you want to fuck me, I’ll ask how, and if you want to date, me, I’ll ask how, and why, maybe a couple of times, bare with me okay, it’s not every day that a hunkbunny--”

“What is up with that nickname?!”

“--that a hunkbunny asks me out without having a group of friends laughing behind him so, yeah, okay, sure, whatever floats your boat, man, I’m down for it.”

That ramble makes Derek just a bit dizzy, but he focuses.

“I want to fuck you, yeah, but only after the third date and if we both feel comfortable and down for it, as you put it,” he replies, sitting back on his stool but not letting go of Stiles’ hand. “And when we get there, I’ll be the one asking how you want me. Deal?”

Stiles lets out a disbelieving laugh, but he nods, his fingers wrapped around Derek’s. “Deal. Now, tell me, can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes you can.”

((They do wait for their fourth date before Derek takes Stiles back to his place, and he does ask how, and he makes sure to communicate as much as his appreciation for Stiles’ everything.

Not with words, because Derek is more of a nonverbal communicator, but the message gets through.

He makes sure of it.))


End file.
